Silhouette of the Mind

A poem for my Muse

A woman unknown,
silhouette of dreams.
Scorched earth and brimstone,
she conspires and schemes.

Idealized so,
she becomes not her
but a phantom aglow
awashed and obscured.

In a heart that skips
she can be found there
with her blood red lips
and raven black hair.

Against lily white skin
and deep sky blue eyes,
with a shrug she can give
a look that fuels fire.

To bleed at the soul,
a yearning undied.
To want someone so
yet remain untried.

His voice heard to call
a heart so confined.
Him begging cold walls
to let free his mind.

Hope the fear passes,
these nerves to rescind.
Make them to ashes,
to blow with the wind.

What has been but once
a smooth, glassy lake,
has been for the nonce
disrupted and quaked.

A pebble did break
a calm, gentle sea.
These ripples doth make
the calmness uneased.

Whats left to ensue
with waves ever forth.
With nothing to lose
this heart can then pour.